I Spent Two Hours Talking To My Bartender Saturday Night

Saturday I was lucky enough to be whisked away to maybe the largest resort Casino in the Province.  

Lucky for me I got up early playing roulette. Within 20 minutes I had already quadrupled my bank roll, and unfortunately, that meant it was time to shut down gambling.  However, the problem was that I was going to be stuck in the casino for another 5 hours.  

I spent a solid hour at the casino buffet, and escaped without picking up any disease (that I am aware of). 

I spent another two hours watching other people gamble, lose money, win it back, then lose it again.

Probably the weirdest part of the getaway was spending two hours sitting at the Casino bar watching the Penguins vs. Leafs game and chatting it up with the bartender.  

We talked about the worlds finest bourbons, wines, beers, and other intense spirits.  We shared stories of travel and living in small towns in rural Ontario.  We talked of his home country, the Olympics, and commented on what others were ordering at the bar.  We talked about avoiding hangovers, places in the world we'd love to see, and of course, women.

Then it dawned on me, am I on a date with this bartender?

Every once in awhile you find yourself in a rich conversation with someone, and it crosses from being super annoying to super interesting.  

For those two hours I could have been sitting in a bar in a downtown metropolitan area.  Instead I was siting on reserve land talking to a guy who may have failed in life as a world class bartender.  I never once asked him how he ended up working at a casino bar.  Probably for the best I didn't.  The mystery creates a fondness. 

After a local bar fly / insane gambler came and sat at the bar the tender fled for break quick.  And like that he was gone from my life forever.

Thank you Mr. Bartender for the great conversation while watching HNIC, and thank you for serving me the best Old Fashioned I have ever tasted.  




We are fucked

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